


Identity

by NeverComingHome



Series: BDSM A/U [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverComingHome/pseuds/NeverComingHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone thinks Irene is a Dominant, everyone thinks Molly is a Submissive and everyone is wrong. </p><p>John Watson just wants to find the maniac killing Switches.</p><p>AU in which people are born Submissive/Dominant/Switch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who are you?

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: Some rough-play, objectifying and dom/sub dynamics.

Irene has always thought that submitting was the single most powerful act someone could engage in. The submissive partner set the terms, created the safe word, and made the limits while the dominant agreed to so they could surrender to their baser instincts. Dominants were wild, shameful things that knew no shame and thus fancied themselves in charge when all it took was the faintest whimper of true harm to their partner before the charade broke and their touch was as soft as the feather side of a whip.

Irene’s mother and father had divorced shortly after she gave birth leaving Irene to be raised in a Submissive/Switch household. The S was there, a cursive scar just below her collar and yet for years her mother and stepfather were convinced she would grow a D beside it over night or the S would transform into one. Amongst her friends she was the self appointed leader, commandeering their activities and ignoring the advances of thick skull Dominants who were still fumbling with their inherent abilities to single out a Submissive. Shortly after puberty Irene perfected her Touch, a single swipe of the thumb on bare skin and she knew a Submissive from a Dominant from a Switch, if they were paired or not and if they’d been broken or done any breaking.

If not for how she waited on them hand and foot they would’ve taken her in for a second opinion. Irene was always generous with herself in a way no Dominant would ever feel comfortable being, out dated stereotypes or not. There were some things that were just true and the idea of a Dominant making themselves available to someone they had no desire for, regardless of price, went too hard against their kind’s particular grain.

Irene saw her business as a challenge and organized the priority of a client based on how long it took them to figure out she was a Submissive if they ever did. The one thing that threw them off was the fact that she never covered her skin. They weren’t in the dark ages anymore, but perhaps because of that there was a distrust between unbroken Submissives and experienced yet unpaired Dominants. Experience altered the heart rate and so unbroken Submissives took to wearing gloves that covered their wrists and high collars or scarves to hide the veins in their neck. Inexperienced Dominants did the same as well as those who were paired, but for whatever reason wished for it to remain a secret, but to Irene it was as good as placing a neon sign above ones head reading : Break Me.

People thought her Dominant because she rejected the scarves and gloves unless the weather called for it. She met Kate when she bent down in a park and her blouse moved to reveal the S. Kate brushed her neck with the back of her knuckles and gasped.

“Come home with me.”

“No, why don’t you come home with me.”

Kate was a Switch and the first non Submissive who had let Irene tie them up while begging (ordering) to be hurt. When it was over Kate wrapped a hand around Irene’s neck possessively and leaned in to bite, but didn’t follow after when Irene rolled away with shaking hands to take a longer than necessary shower. It had felt wrong hurting Kate even if she was only a switch. The word “no” still lingered in Irene’s mouth like a bad aftertaste and made her light headed with revulsion. No matter how dominantly she walked the streets beneath her clothes the S bit into her chest with every movement.

Irene did what Submissives do: she made rules. Her clients were always gagged or previously ordered not to speak in any way. The clients who had nothing to offer, but their money were punished under the impression she was a Dominant, embarrassing but no more so than anything else they paid her to do to them. The clients who went on her list were video taped and at the end of their session Irene would double check their ties and purposefully remove her bodice to reveal her mark. Most of them raged, struggling hard against the ties while shouting obscenities at her for the betrayal. Some of them only widened their eyes and made a gesture with their hand to get on with it, prompting an explanation from her on the new terms of their relationship: favors, money, information in exchange for not shaming them with the evidence of being broken by a Submissive.

Despite how far they’d come from the days of Submissives being auctioned off (before the Servile Rights Movement) there were some countries that still executed Submissives who broke Dominants and reeducation schools for broken Dominants were still being integrated into boarding schools catering to old world families.

Kate was everything she needed, but not what she wanted and it was a heavily supported assumption that Switches were only satisfied with their own kind, but they weren‘t entirely unhappy. Irene was positive, in fact, that she was coming very close to a life worth settling for.

Until she met Molly Hooper.

~*~  
"Oh, my, you are…" Molly trailed off, furious that her gaze was drifting from Irene’s side up to her chest.

"Yes, I am a Submissive also unbroken, unpaired and bleeding profusely. I was under the impression you were a doctor, but if corpses are more your forte you need only wait," she slumped against a table and croaked, "a moment."

"Hold on!"  
   
It made Molly feel ashamed how quickly the thing inside her snapped awake at the mere sight of a fleshy character on a (beautiful, smooth, heaving) chest. Matted hair, bloodied sharp debris embedded into gorgeous frail limbs and yet all she could think of was how it felt beneath her fingertips and how much she wanted to see her handprint around the other woman’s neck and thighs and…

She cleared her throat and knelt, carefully treating the knife wound and various other bruises and scratches until nearly falling backward when Irene's hand drifted idly through her hair, teasing and pulling.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" She asked faintly, face turned to the side.

"You're...petting me."

"A pet for the pet."

Delirious, another reason for why Molly’s feelings were wholly inappropriate given the situation. Then again it wasn’t her fault the Yard had asked her to look into a rash of unsolved murders nearly thirty years old and compare them to another string of murders that only the investigators (and probably Sherlock) even knew to be actual murders. She’d been half listening to a drama that had only just taken a turn for the romantic. A Dominant’s rival believed herself to be a Switch when really she was a Submissive who’d been brainwashed in a convoluted spy plot. The Dominant grabbed her by the shoulders when she refused to be broken.

“I know what’s inside of you.”

Molly rolled her eyes, but then the Submissive began to quietly drop to her knees and Molly’s own legs squeezed together.

“Beg me to fix you.”

Molly was debating whether she found the scene to be cliché or a terrifyingly accurate depiction of a dream she’d been avoiding when an alarm went off and moments later Irene stumbled into her office and croaked,

“I believe I need your help.”

~*~  
By the time John and Sherlock arrived Molly was in her office and Irene was asleep beneath a scratchy blanket, stitched up, but exhausted. John cast a glance around for Molly who he expected to be at her side while Sherlock headed straight to the closed door. John followed after, frowning at the woman who was in the furthest corner with her nails digging tightly into her palm.

"What‘s wrong?"

"She’s a Submissive.”

“No!” John blurted, “She hurts Dominants and Submissives for a living, doesn’t she? I assumed she was a Switch.”

“Molly do you know who Irene Adler is?”

“Well now I do.”

“Oh.” The tips of John’s ears went red, “Well it’s not like you’re The Sun. Can we get back to the important matter like why is she half naked on a gurney and yet you called us?”

“I don’t say this often enough, but John’s right. How did she end up here?”

Molly didn't figure out much. Irene had mentioned something about a client who was interested in a specific scene Irene had done before. She asked where he came up with the idea just as someone screamed from upstairs and she heard the sound of gunshots. Before  passing out she’d been firm on not getting anyone else involved, but Molly had assumed it was the shock talking and called them straight away.

"She seems to be waking up." John gave Sherlock a once over. He didn’t like to bring up the fact that Sherlock was born mark-less, but Submissives preferred the company of other Submissives when they were feeling vulnerable and besides “Better stay here Sherlock, we all know why she‘s not talking to you.”

“We don’t all know that, why do you all know that and I don’t?”

John ignored him and waved Molly over. “Come on. There has to be a reason she came here."

"I can't."

"She can't."

Then it was John’s turn to look confused. "Why not?"

Molly stared very hard at Sherlock, she stared at him so hard she thought she’d blind herself from the effort and yet for all her strain Sherlock Holmes was the weakest man alive when it came to keeping his mouth shut when he knew an answer.

“Molly’s a Dominant, obviously, and I assume from her state that Irene must be unbroken, unpaired or both.”

“Molly’s a WHAT?”

“Bored now, leave it. Let’s get to the bottom of this ‘will not talk to Sherlock’ business.” He stared at the other man who was gaping openly at Molly who felt like both fidgeting and pushing his head down so his eyes were on the floor. “John!”

“Right, coming.”

Molly suspected Sherlock was mark less, but if she hadn’t known John was a Submissive she knew it then. With his head lowered he picked off a bit of fluff from Sherlock’s overcoat and absent mindedly pocketed it before stepping beside him to approach Irene.

~*~  
Her list was compromised all thanks to some green behind the ears politician's warped sense of entitlement making him think his back to back session were some sort of week long affair and prompting typical Dominant jealousy. She'd taken off his mask and loosened his ties so he could rest from the scene while she canceled an appointment. In her absence he’d managed to wedge free a left behind badge of one of his higher ups who happened to be a powerful conservative politician married to another powerful conservative politician, rightly assuming his boss wasn’t the only powerful client in her repertoire.

He’d stolen her list which wasn’t half the secrets she kept and while she was positive he knew nothing about her being a Submissive what he had was enough to put a dent in the reputations of a few people and burn several ties very quickly.

"Why here?"

"I was hurt.”

"Most people go to the police or a hospital when they’re injured not a morgue, unless they’ve a grim idea for their chances of survival.”

"I can’t trust the hospitals, least of all the police. They’ve got Kate and she handles all the proof of my encounters. Who knows what Calis intends to do with that it. Sure he might only leak it to the press or he could contact them one by one and give them an incentive for slitting my throat. I had no options."

The few times Sherlock had spoken of Molly his voice had made it quite clear she was off limits and yet how many people did Sherlock Holmes care enough to care about? After she'd been shot the only thing keeping her driving in a straight line was his words. Molly Hooper never turned away a soul. 

Irene had other contacts, but she needed a few days under the radar of her enemies for their safety as well as her own. Sherlock's home, under the watchful eye of the British government aka big brother, wasn’t exactly conducive to keeping a low profile.

“You’re investigating those murders aren’t you? Thirteen people all unrelated except for two words carved beside them: Strike Out. I knew a man once, he paid me to make one mark across his front three days in a row then I wouldn’t see him for three months. Obsessed with threes wasn’t he? How long has it been since any bodies have been found with those words?”

“Thirty years to the day. You know something.”

“I might, but I’m forgetful in my old age. If I had my list I might be able to help you narrow the field.”

“Doubtful, the killer is young, not nearly old enough to-”

“His father paid for his sessions. Old school Dom I’m sure you’re familiar with the type at least academically, believed Switches were an abomination. He wanted me to straighten out junior, make him choose a side.”

John looked at Sherlock and Molly watched them from the door of her office. All the deaths thirty years ago had been Switches and the ones occurring now were a mix of Submissives and Switches.

“This is illegal what you‘re doing.”

“It’s not. Without my list and those recordings everything I say is my word against theirs. You’d never let anything happen to Hooper and I want the same kind of protection, give me that and you can take whatever information you need,” he opened his mouth and she held up a hand, “within reason.”

Sherlock’s eyes were all over her, looking for any sign of nervousness or deceit and was almost disappointed when he realized she was telling the truth.

“Molly? Fancy a flat mate?”

~*~  
Molly was raised in a strict Submissive/Dominant household that believed the Servile Rights Movement was a perversion of the natural order. Her birthparent was her father, a model Submissive who was always formally leashed and shirtless when in public, his mark pushing out from the tattoo of the crest passed down through the Dominant side. Molly’s mother had inked him herself, sparing him the brand out of the kindness of her heart as well as the desire to see him squirm longer than it took the quick brush of a heated prod.

She preferred her father, him being the one who had coaxed his wife into allowing their only Dominant to regular school as opposed to the old world Convent her other siblings had attended. The demand for equal rights jump started after she’d already spent sleepovers with children whose birthparents only went shirtless or wore their collars at home or in the presence of friends; making optional what Molly had been taught was mandatory.

With the realization came the Touch. While watching a comedy that was winding down her best friend Elisa had yawned and rested her head on Molly’s arm. Molly had wrapped an arm around their shoulders and felt the blood moving through Elisa’s veins. Her thoughts, indecipherable made Molly feel as if she was watching Elisa’s emotions, there was nothing frantic in them, but there was a yearning. She was unbroken which meant she wasn’t paired and she was pressed against Molly with a sleepy grin on her face.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

SD was on Elisa’s chest and at the slightest hint of frailty in Molly’s voice she kissed her and dragged her fingertips down Molly’s stomach, clawing without permission. Without thinking Molly had growled, teeth clenched and ready to bite and mark when she saw something like fear in Elisa’s eyes. It was only the shift from one set of instincts to another, but Molly had never seen anything but acceptance from Submissives when a Dominant took control. Before Elisa could protest Molly was making excuses to leave, stomping her feet hard into the puddles of rain on her way home.

~*~  
There were things one could buy, illegal in some places, legal in others and constantly debated but still obtainable. They were called Falsies and Molly had been keeping a healthy stock of them since her encounter with Elisa. For work she wore a slightly off color S and for the rest of the time she covered her mark completely. Extremist Submissives claimed to be working on a pill that would suppress Dominant urges, but none of their findings were remotely safe and nothing short of a revolt would create an environment in which they were legitimately funded so Falsies were the closest Molly came to hiding herself and her upbringing from the world.

She wore gloves and scarves to complete the image and if sometimes she stared too long at a Submissive or accidentally Touched an unbroken stranger, well, that was why she spent all her time reading or at Barts.

And now? Now she had the very definition of Dom bait going through her channels with a frown.

“You’ve only got the news.”

“Um, yes, Sherlock programmed it for me. I don’t really like to watch anything else and-”

“All those books on the shelf are nonfiction.”

“I’ve always thought memoirs could read like fiction.”

“Not a drop of alcohol in the flat. I’d go mad, think I already am in fact.”

“On that we’d agree.”

Irene smiled, sitting up and patting the spot beside her. “Why don’t we talk to pass the time?” Yet, before she could settle in, Irene had her wrist in hand and was plucking off her gloves. “You’re not entirely inexperienced then.”

“Stop it.” Molly’s fingers curled up, but Irene rubbed her palm and they stretched out again. “You can’t just give me the Touch without permission. I’m not one of your clients.”

“It’s exhilarating, no wonder Dominants do it whenever they want.”

“I thought we were going to talk.”

“We are.” She brought Molly’s wrist to her mouth. “See how my lips move, doctor?“ Molly didn’t respond, watching Irene kiss upwards of Molly’s hand then back down. “You’ve been such a good little dom, all day and all night maybe even,” she touched Molly’s chin and the other woman’s mouth opened in response, “all days, all nights?”

Her tongue was scalding and it was really unfair that Molly had spent her entire life trying to be good and Irene had spent hers perfecting being bad. She knew how to push buttons Molly had convinced herself didn’t exist and she used all her strength to bully Molly onto her back, smiling at the resulting change of positions. Molly was on top of her before she knew what she was doing, dragging her nails across Irene’s skin and tugging restlessly at the too large shirt. Irene could have pulled it off, but instead she pulled it down, squirming away until Molly placed a balled up fist in the middle of her chest and reached between her legs. Irene sighed, not thinking of lists or murders or anything but the touch of a Dominant who even when they didn’t know what they were doing knew exactly what to do.

She canted her hips, trying to urge Molly inside her before giving up with the suggestions and demanding it in her ear. Molly whispered something.

“Hm?”

“Beg me.”

Irene closed her eyes and said “No” while thinking ‘please’.

Molly’s hand pulled away, not deliberately but as if in fright. “Do you not want it?”

“Yes,” Irene answered, put off by the uncharacteristic tone of worry. She shook her head, “I don‘t, but I do.” She reached for Molly’s hand, but the other woman evaded her touch.

“No.” It came out so easily for her, Irene noted bitterly. Where was the young woman who all but fainted when Irene petted her hair and cowered in the office as if afraid to be alone with her? They couldn’t be the same because this Molly Hooper’s voice was rougher and softer all at once. She adjusted her leg between Irene’s and flexed it. “You want it,” she husked, “beg for it.”  
Irene kissed her and upon breaking it closed her eyes once again, opening her mouth to plead and cry out.

Which was when the door burst open and a masked man came falling through it with an armful of angry John Watson. John was probably a foot shorter than the man, but with all the assuredness of a giant he slammed the stranger against the wall then sat on his back while he handcuffed him. When he looked up it was to Molly standing with her arms wrapped around herself and Irene sitting up on her knees in the middle of the couch. Both looked flushed and disturbed, but John assumed it was the only natural response when two grown men came charging through in the middle of the night.

“Funny story.”

It wasn’t all that funny a story in reality. Calis had discovered Irene was a submissive and in a fit of shame confessed to his old world family that he’d been dominated by a Submissive and hadn‘t shown up for work since then. They looked into his family and found several convictions of funding illegal Submissive auctions. They believed Calis still had the list and knew for a fact that he was going through reeducation at a school that just so happened to be in need of a nurse.

“Your family name is in the registrar Molly. We-I mean Sherlock- looked into it and they’ve been asking about you for a long time now. It’s the only English speaking school that doesn’t have any courses teaching Submissive Rights. This is where they’re keeping him, we‘re positive, and there‘s a good chance we‘ll find a lead on the Strike Out killings. They require Touch certification and we all know which of us will pass that test.”

Irene placed a hand on Molly’s arm, over the sleeve of her shirt. John looked down at the unconscious man. There would be more like him coming after Irene the longer it took for word to get around that she was defenseless. Old enemies would remember old grudges and favorite clients would try to put out any rumors of their proclivities even without knowing the bit about her being a Submissive. Most old world Dominants had upwards of one Submissive in their household so on top of getting Irene out of the city John would be able to accompany them and further cement Molly’s hiring.

All of them knew it.

“Are you alright with this?” She asked Irene who smiled faintly and nodded.

“I suppose we should start packing then.”


	2. Who are we?

John’s parents weren’t old world, but they were old fashioned and when he went to them for the wedding collar they’d bought him on his sixteenth birthday there was more than a little to do about it only being for a case. 

 

“Oh John, but she’s lovely! Let's see the crest again.” 

 

Molly reached into her purse and showed them the symbol which was to be etched into John’s collar. They exchanged a look and Molly made the excuse of checking on Irene. When the Watsons finally came out Harry was tugging absently on her own collar.

 

“-prospects?” She finished asking with a glint in her eye. “Who is that always interrupting our calls?”

 

“Ah, no it’s not like that.”

 

"Don't be like that your sister has told us all about it. Holmes are old world blood. Very respectable,” his father put in.

 

“We’re just friends, dad.”

 

“Is he Switch then?" His mother reached out to pat his cheek, "Ever since Mary you know we don’t care about that so long as they're nice. ”

 

 John snapped at them that not every Submissive had to pair up to be happy then followed up with an apology for raising his voice. When he got into the car Molly couldn’t help but smirk, but it was Irene who chimed in first.

 

“Now we know why Sherlock’s not here. Did he even have a case or are you that spineless, Watson? Honestly.”

 

“Bite me.”

 

“Oh give me the honors.”

 

“Settle down,” Molly said without venom. "My mother is expecting us in a couple days. Irene there should be a folder beneath my seat.”

 

Irene went through the contents and Molly watched her eyebrows lift as she read. Not finishing it she handed the folder to John. Dominants had longer life spans than Submissives (the conjecture being it was to spare the weak willed Submissive a moment without their partner) so while it was odd for Molly to put off collaring anyone it wasn’t late enough for her parents to worry. They spoke twice a year by phone and at funerals or weddings and it was enough. Experience brought old world families closer together and on top of her working at Bickers they’d be expecting nothing short of perfect conduct from their only Dominant’s Submissives. 

 

John had been nodding along to what he was reading until he came upon the rules of the manor, created in the dark ages and followed by everyone who lived by old world morals. He began to read them aloud.

_All Submissives are to remain barefoot and shirtless or in clothing exposing their mark at all times._

 

Molly told him the grounds were manicured to reduce injuries and some of the vests she picked up for him curved around to expose his mark while still being capable of hiding weapons within the padding beneath it.  It also helped to pick out any Submissives who did not belong as some manors allowed guests to adorn their Submissives with pads that stuck to the bottom of the foot, usually colored with the most prominent shade on the house’s crest. 

 

_Submissives may not leave their quarters or Dominant without an escort from the house or written permission from their Dominant. Any Submissives found breaking this rule are subject to Humiliation and possible confiscation by the house._

 

“She can write us a note and leave off the time and date.” Irene said although her voice was lacking its usual teasing quality. 

 

  
_Any Dominant suspected of being broken will be subject to reeducation. If the Dominant fails to reform any and all Submissives they’ve broken or collared will be subject to execution and the Dominant will be rendered dishonrable and confiscated by the house. Dominants who perish during reeducation will be buried dishonorably._  

 

John closed the folder and turned on the radio.

 

“What does that mean ‘ dishonorable’?”

 

John cleared his throat.  “They’ll get rid of your mark. Ultimate dishonor that: not being turned into a Submissive or a Switch or what have you, but not being marked at all.”

 

Molly took her eyes off the road to look at him only to find he was staring back in much the same manner as when he’d first realized she was a Dominant. 

 

“There was a reason I ran away.”

 

“And now you’re going back.”

 

~*~

She dropped him off and would never know exactly what Sherlock had said to him, but it was enough. Irene took the front seat while the two got into the back. Sherlock would be staying at Molly’s house which was close to Bickers. They intended to bill him as a freshly reeducated Dominant so he could worm his way into the old world social life which the Strike Out killer was undoubtedly part of. 

 

Irene’s parents didn’t believe in collaring and she’d requested they be left out of it so all that was left was the interview which Molly passed with flying colors. There remained only one problem which Sherlock pointed out after they’d bought rooms at an inn and were having dinner downstairs. 

 

Molly hadn’t broken anyone. The headmaster himself would be administering the Touch and no one on earth would believe that a Hooper in possession of two Submissives would be inexperienced. 

 

“Can’t be me,” John shrugged, “previously paired. Sorry.”

 

Sherlock's fork clattered onto the plate. "You were?"

 

“I told you I was engaged once.”

 

“Previously paired Submissives carry an instinctive urge to settle down, but after becoming unpaired they lose their desire for Dominants and usually form intense bonds with other Submissives, Switches or in some cases the markless.” Sherlock recited from 'The Anatomy' and all at once Molly believed John when he said the detective hadn't known about the sun being the center of the universe as the light bulb apparently went off.  He picked up his fork and said in a slightly shaky tone, “It can’t be John.”

 

Without a word Irene stood, placing her hands on the back of Molly’s in the formal stance of a Submissive waiting for their Dominant to finish their meal. When Molly stood Irene pulled the chair back and pushed for her then pushed it back in, her eyes on the floor. Molly almost melted at the sight and a bit of wickedness tinted Irene’s gaze when she looked past her at John (who was focused intently on his plate) and  Sherlock (who was focused intently on John).

 

“Goodnight boys.”

 

~*~

Outside their room Irene began to strip, handing each item of clothing to Molly before kneeling.

 

“Get up.”

 

“Order me.”

 

“No, please, it can’t be like this.”

 

“Would you prefer someone else? They’re going to give me the Touch as well, two birds with one stone as they say.”

 

Molly dropped to her knees and kissed Irene, shoving the clothes away and tilting the other woman’s head to bite her neck and trace the S with her tongue. Irene’s jaw loosened, slack as her pulse raced against Molly’s touch which was communicating the other’s emotions. She was repressed, self loathing, eager, aching and most of all she wanted Irene, not just a warm body. Irene had taken an unasked for stroll through Molly’s browser history and found links to every tabloid and news story that talked about Irene. She’d also probably heard more than enough from John and Sherlock if John’s outburst at the morgue was any indication of what secrets he allowed to slip in front of Molly. 

 

Despite and even because of what she knew she still wanted Irene: the domineering Submissive and to top it all off for the first time the idea of being broken didn’t seem as degrading when it was with Molly. 

 

“Don’t buy a room if you don’t intend to use it,” someone muttered, but Irene cupped Molly’s face in her hands and kept her from looking away to apologize. 

 

Irene stood first and Molly took the hand outstretched to her. As soon as the door was shut behind them they were on the bed. Irene crawled onto it and Molly’s hand snatched out to pull her ankle so she fell onto her front. She remained still while Molly undressed and hovered above her, tracing down her spine with her nails then her mouth. With a hungry tug she pulled at Irene’s shoulder until she turned onto her front. 

 

“You don’t have to beg me for this to work,” she whispered, “you know that?”

 

“Yes,” Irene undid the band keeping Molly’s hair in a knot and kissed the D upon her chest, “make me do it anyway.”

 

Molly entered Irene while kissing down her front, happy to obey for the first time in her life. 


	3. Who are they?

  
The headmaster clasped her arm as she clasped his, holding the grip for a moment before they parted with a smile less enthusiastic on Molly’s part. He apologized for the formalities, explaining that families were going the way of the new order more and more while still attempting to horn in on old world privileges and institutions.

“Fine specimens you have here,” he boomed as John and Irene entered the office. “Sumner’s boy applied for tenure and the first Sub he broke he collared and hasn’t taken another since. I told him ‘get yourself a respectable household first’ and was embarrassed on his behalf I needed to say. Your mother and I, we agreed five’s the magic number to keep a home running smoothly. You’ll understand soon enough. May I?”

Molly nodded and Warren placed a hand around Irene’s throat first. The newly broken didn’t hold much interest for him and it was family gossip that he believed the idea of previously paired Submissives rejecting Dominants was a new order lie. Three of his own had been paired before and Molly didn’t doubt they would run if they had a chance of getting away. It was an unintentional point in their favor, but she could have done without it.

He wrapped his hand around John’s throat, above the collar, and lingered as the information came to him.

“Ah, you’ve been around old boy. How’d Hooper re-break you? Speak.”

“We worked together, I’m a doctor.”

“Was a doctor, I’m sure. Shame they insist on hiring you people. Unless they’re monitored at all times you can’t trust a Submissive physician ,” he chuckled, “call me an old fashioned sod.”

“You’re an old fashioned sod.” Beside him Irene just barely managed to choke back a laugh.

Warren reared back his other hand at once, but Molly intervened apologizing on his behalf and rambling on about moving nerves and punishing him properly when they were settled. Warren released John’s neck and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his palm.

“We offer obedience training, complimentary to new associates their first year. The girl seems well heeled all things considered, but he could use a bit of Humiliation.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll bear that in mind.”

He turned away from them and Irene tugged the side of John’s collar to make him follow her out. His fists remained clenched upon the tops of his thighs as they knelt until Irene placed a hand atop one and he relaxed. Molly wrapped up the conversation with Warren and soon enough they were lead to the flat they’d be expected to spend most of their time.

The bed was the most expensive piece of furniture and took up most of the room as if it were the only thing that mattered. A large household was considered the norm and no respectable Dominant would entertain guests in the same area Submissives spent their leisure time, but Bickers acknowledgment and respect for the bond translated into making up for it with a bed not worth leaving. Having expected an extra cot at least John and Molly froze at the sight of it. It wasn’t exactly as if they could sneak in a hide away bed when no one was looking.

Irene, predictably didn’t understand their hesitance and dropped onto the mattress, thankful to be off both her feet and knees. She let out a moan, bringing the edge of the blanket to her cheek with a sigh. Molly’s place and the inn had been all well and good, but she missed the luxuries money could buy. She sat up.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Molly exchanged an uncomfortable look with John, “We were thinking of the sleeping arrangements.”

“Ooh, dibs on middle.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” He replied flatly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both Submissives it‘s not like I can get you in the family way.” She winked at him, “I promise I won’t do anything indecent in the middle of the night.”

“Very comforting coming from a dominatrix who regularly conducts nude interrogations.”

“One time!”

“It only takes one time!”

“Hammock” Molly butt in before things could escalate. “Tomorrow is the party where we’ll be introducing Sherlock to my parents, I need to buy a dress so I’ll pick up one while I’m out. I’ll write you a note to take my things to the nurse’s station and you can look around the files while you’re there. Good?” He nodded, ignoring Irene who was blowing him a kiss. “Good.”

~*~  
They still hadn’t talked about their night at the inn, but in their defense Sherlock and John had started the not talking by being so afraid to be alone together that they’d ensured Irene and Molly wouldn’t be alone together either. Sherlock was roaming around town, talking to people so he’d be able to seem well acquainted at the party and Irene was sure John was hyperventilating at the idea of Sherlock Holmes attempting to socialize without supervision.

At the end of the day John was a model citizen who wanted to find the killer then get back to his life, but Irene while not enjoying the experience was at least not hating it. It was different being seen as the Submissive she was born as, thought it funny how she’d felt more pride in being one when people thought her to be a Dominant.

Molly had picked up violet pads for her feet and the smock she wore was plain and cut just beneath the bones of her mark. They could blame her lack of tattooed or branded crest on being newly collared, but she felt as exposed as if it were there. Molly refused point blank to leash her, but Irene was amused to catch her staring at the naked loop while at a stoplight. Irene was amused because for all her protests Molly responded to Submissive gestures automatically. Irene opened doors that Molly walked through while telling Irene not to make it a habit and when Irene pulled ahead of her in a shop Molly reached out a hand and tugged her back to her side.

The change that came with experience couldn’t be undone and Irene didn’t know why Molly insisted on fighting it. She was the ideal Dominant, attentive and firm in the way she dealt with Irene and John snapping at each other and had probably developed overflowing amounts of patience to withstand working with Sherlock for so long. Even while breaking Irene however she’d restrained herself.

Of course Irene had gone through the change as well and there was nothing to say that her sudden infatuation with Molly Hooper had everything to do with her hormones and the fact that she’d forgotten to take her contraception today; one kiss and they’d be paired. She’d heard John and Molly talking about his engagement and the fact that pairing before collaring had been a factor in making them realize how wrong they were together when the effects waned. While he had a point Irene couldn’t let herself forget that he was also a grown man who couldn’t admit he was in love with his flat mate so there was a fair amount of bias going around.

“Irene?”

She was unmoving at the door of the shop while Molly was in a white and silver dress, inspecting herself in a mirror. “Is it too much? My father loves green, but if I set the crest here,” she traced a line between her breasts where the material came to a hole outlined by jewels, “it’ll be the first thing everyone sees and mother won’t complain.”

“Do you have the crest?” A clerk side eyed her and Irene added, “I’ll check your purse for the crest, mistress.”

Molly was still frowning at her reflection, but whispered, “Please and thank you” loud enough for only Irene to hear. Irene picked up the shawl as well, standing in front of Molly to situate it properly before turning her attention to making the crest fit into the dress. She began to speak to take her mind off how close they were, talking about earrings and shoes as if they were exactly what they appeared to be.

“You’d look better in this,” Molly interrupted as if commenting on the clouds beginning to accumulate outside. “Like in all those opera photos when your hair’s done up. Maybe not the last part.” Submissives were ordered to keep their hair pinned back in company, long hair could cover up the mark and thus was frowned upon. Molly thought it was a shame because Irene looked lovely with her hair down and she’d been trying to find a way to say it.

Irene had been paid the compliment many times before which was how she knew for certain it was the change that made her shiver at the words. She finished with the crest, but before she could pull away Molly kissed her forehead in gratitude. A picture perfect silhouette of the dutiful Submissive and caring Dominant.

“Your skin tastes different.”

Irene was still touching the crest, “I ran out of contraceptives.”

Molly’s lips moved to her cheek, very close to her mouth. “Bickers has them in the nurse‘s station, I can tell John to grab a box if you‘d like.”

“I don’t know if I want them.”

“Oh.” Molly felt her mouth go dry and she stepped away from Irene and the mirror.

They bought the hammock and rode back to the flat with only the radio to fill the silence.

~*~  
Thankfully there was much the old world crowd forgave when it came to reputation and the Holmes family had a flawless reputation. Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes represented everything they were about and as the stories came forth about their parents Molly couldn’t help but pity the younger Holmes. She had no idea his family was as entrenched in the old ways as her own and could only imagine what his childhood as a markless had been like. His comments often went over the heads of the party goers for Molly, Irene and John were all grateful. In fact despite having as good a reason as any to be put off Sherlock was enjoying himself thoroughly, engrossed in the hunt for the Strike Out killer. He pretended to drink, laughed, asked leading questions, disappeared and reappeared with bulging pockets he took attention from with a bottle of wine or bust of a literary character who he proceeded to make fun of.

Like a king arriving with his harem Louise Hooper finally descended the steps with her Submissives, grasped Molly’s arm then enveloped her in a hug that smelt of bourbon and expensive perfume.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Molly’s father, Vincent, winked and she extricated herself to wrap her arms around him. The other Submissives were all dark haired and lanky, but Molly was glad to see he hadn’t been forced to dye the flecks of grey in his neatly trimmed goatee.

“Have you been treating your mistress well?” He asked and when Irene and John replied in unison his smile fell slightly. “Taking after your mother I see.”

“It’s not like that, dad.”

“Fool, I assumed uni would change things.“ He stood back. “I’m proud of you.”

“All of us are,” her mother added raising her voice to draw attention. She took a flute of champagne from the tray one of her Submissive’s held and offered it to Molly while people sidled closer to listen. “To another Hooper passing through the fine halls of Bickers, even if it’s only to work. What one takes away from Bickers cannot be taken from their hearts.”

“Hear hear!”

“To the old world!”

“To tradition!”

Her father placed one hand over his heart and mouthed to you with a tear running down his cheek.

  
~*~  
Less than a week later John was almost murdered by the Strike Out killer and had narrowed their suspects down to three.

“It’s one of Warren’s previously paired Submissives only they‘re not actually paired to him. ”

“How do you know?”

He pointed at Molly and Sherlock, “Leave.”

“Say again?”

“It’s private.”

“What are we, five year olds? First Irene now you. Is Molly the only one who has enough damn sense to ignore personal issues and call when something needs solving? When are people going to learn that when it comes to crime-”

“I MET HIM WHILE TRYING TO HAVE ANONYMOUS SEX. Are you happy? Feel better about yourself?”

“You can figure out ownership through the Touch?”

“If they have strong feelings about them yes.”

“So you gave him the Touch picked up on his hatred for Warren and presumably all the lovely emotions that come with wanting to murder someone like you, he attacked, you got away. Brilliant. Excellent work. If only everyone could think outside the box.”

Molly and Irene cleared the path which John used to punch Sherlock in the face.   
“You are the most infuriating man on the face of the earth, bar none.”

“What did I say?” He looked at Molly and Irene who were torn between laughter and separating to console each party. “What did I say?”

It took a chase through the courtyard, a shootout, three news crews and a furious headmaster for the truth to come out. Kenneth had fallen for a Switch. When Warren found out he’d killed the woman who dared break and pair herself with his only son and to drive his point home he killed more Switches and made Kenneth dispose of the bodies. When reeducation didn’t work he faked his son’s death, waited then claimed to have found a new Submissive that was too sickly to leave the house all to spare having the family name sullied by the existence of a Switch. As a child Kenneth been given strikes for Switch behavior and on the third strike he was locked in the attic. As soon as a friend working the Strike Out killings casually mentioned the case Warren had sent for Kenneth. Given the reeducation program to handle in his spare time Kenneth had come across a Switch passing himself off as a Dominant who went by the name of Calis.

He hated his father for taking him away from his new passion and had been intending to hunt down everyone on Irene’s list, but until he could manage an escape had tried to pass the time by indulging in and killing a Submissive which had lead him to John. Along with Irene’s list they found the whereabouts of Kate and correspondence with the hit men hired to take out her and Irene. Lestrade assured them he’d take care of it.

Sherlock clapped as Warren and Kenneth were hauled away. “Case closed, no new bodies, everything sorted.”

“Cheers,” John started to brush past him, but Sherlock stopped him. “What?”

“I’m not like you, John.”

“I’ve told you that you don’t have to be.”

“I can’t impregnate you with my tongue.”

“I hate kids.”

“No I meant my anatomy is boring. I’m boring.“ Molly felt Irene’s hand creep into her own as they watched unabashedly not that they were noticed. “I won‘t be enough.”

John laughed. “That’s what you think?”

“It’s true.”

John grabbed Sherlock by the lapels of his cloak. “You are the strangest, most interesting, most alien man I’ve ever met. Ever.”

The corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitched upwards briefly. “Thanks.”

Irene kissed the shell of Molly’s ear. “Let’s leave them to it, shall we?”

~*~  
The next morning Irene made breakfast while Molly packed their things. All was accounted for except for one thing. She held out a hand for Irene’s collar.

“Business will go along a lot smoother without that around your neck.”

Irene bit her lower lip, leaning against the counter. “I love you, Molly.”

“It’s the change talking.”

“No, it isn’t. I loved you the moment you stared at me like a teenage boy in that morgue, but then asked permission to lay me on the gurney.”

“How could you?”

Irene held out a hand and Molly took it, feeling her emotions the longer she held on.

“Alright that is a lie, but I’ve seen how you were raised and Sherlock knew when he told me that you’d never turned away a soul. You’re not like these people.”

Molly looked at their interlaced fingers, wanting to believe it. “I wanted to break you as soon as we met.”

“But you didn’t.” She unbuttoned Molly’s dress shirt and rubbed her mark, pushed the fabric off her shoulders to her waist and grabbed each side to tug her closer. “Tell me to get on my knees, mistress, and I will service you until you beg me to stop and then I won’t stop, but only if you tell me.” Irene’s mobile buzzed in her pocket and she removed it and dropped it on the floor, kicking it away with her foot. “Tell me.”

Molly kissed her and reveled in the difference the lack of contraceptives made. Irene tasted earthier, less chemical than when it felt like her mouth was coated with the residue of the pills she took. There was blood in Molly’s saliva and now there was blood in Irene’s and when they mingled she couldn’t just tell what Irene was feeling, but experienced it as well. There was lust (there was always lust), but there was also the things Irene was too guarded and distrusting to put into words, all the little moments that had made her not want to take the pills in her case.

Molly held her so tightly she knew there would be marks, sliding her fingers into Irene’s hair and jerking her head back.

“Get on the floor. Now, please.”

It was as difficult for Molly to say as ‘no’ was for Irene and yet better. Stranger, but better. She wondered if it was what being broken felt like and then she stopped wondering anything at all.


	4. Resolutions

“To think if you hadn’t told me to stay away from Molly none of this wouldn’t have happened.”

They were at a restaurant, their last dinner together before Irene gave up her business for good to follow Molly to her new position as a head medical examiner in America. Irene had called in more than enough favors to afford opening up a magazine with plenty of material for issues to come with Kate handling the financial side.

John took a drink of his pint, ribbing Sherlock who looked less than amused. “She makes a good argument for not following your advice.”

“Which reminds me, I was wrong, you can’t fit a human toe in those jars your mother gave us.”

“Stop using my mother’s jars for body parts!”

“I needed to know for a case and Molly suggested I try.”

John glared at Molly who shrugged and tilted her glass towards Sherlock, “To irrational Submissives.”

“I'll drink to that.”

Irene scowled at her. “To adorably thick Dominants.”

Sherlock idly placed a hand on John’s knee and patted it and whatever sarcastic toast he had in mind turned into fondness halfway out of his mouth,

“To everything else.”

“Cheers!”


End file.
